“Please what, Adrianne?” Callan asked.
“Don’t tease her, Cal.” This was from Foster. His voice was like gravel. I looked at the rearview mirror and knew that he was watching me when he could. “Make her come.”
Callan crooked his finger and pressed that spot that sent stars scattering across my vision. “Impatient,” he muttered, but it wasn't directed at me. It was strange, seeing them like this.
I grabbed his arm, bringing his dark eyes down to me. “Pleasefuck me, Callan,” I whined.
The two men in the front seats groaned, but my eyes were locked on Callan's. He dipped his head down and kissed me, soft and searching and in total contradiction to the sudden, harsh rhythm that he built with his fingers.
He touched my clit with his thumb and circled it, and I flew over the edge, muscles clamping down around him as I came. I slumped against Callan’s side, panting, and Foster said, “Good. Now make her come again.”
I looked up at Callan with wide eyes. “Is he serious?”
He smirked, and his hand started working against me again. Overstimulation and pleasure that wasalmosttoo much roared through me, and in what felt like seconds, I was coming again. And then a third time.
The pleasure was sharper and too much now. I couldn’t go again. I pushed at Callan’s arm weakly, and he finally released his grasp on me.
“Think she’s done, boys,” Callan said before he sucked his fingers into his mouth.
At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised by anything. My whole life shifted on its axis in such a short period of time, but watching Callan enjoy the taste of me on his fingers made my stomach squirm.
He must have sensed me staring at him because he looked back down at me. “What’s wrong, Princess?”
“It’s been less than two days,” I said, “and I feel comfortable with you all.”
“Why does that sound like a bad thing?” Callan asked. He rubbed his thumb between my eyebrows. “You’re frowning.”
I sighed. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just... unusual for me.”
Ethan glanced over his shoulder at me. “Unusual how?” I knew that he was thinking about the conversation we’d had in my trailer.
“Normally, it’s hard for me to... enjoy myself,” I said and tried to ignore the heat that crept up my cheeks. “I honestly didn’t know that I could.”
There was silence. Then, Callan asked, “What do you mean?”
I wanted to wrap my arms around myself. Maybe fall into a hole. “I’ve dated,” I said. “I’ve had sex. I’ve even had orgasms before. I’m not unused to any of those things, but usually, my partner gets more out of that part of a relationship than I do.”
“How often have you been left to take care of yourself?” Callan prompted.
He sounded so serious, and I missed his smile. I reached up and touched his mouth, tracing his frown. His lips puckered and kissed my fingertips. “Tell us.”
I shrugged. “More often than not,” I said. Truthfully, if I had to think of the last time a man had made me orgasm—before now—my memory would be fuzzy.
The men fell quiet around me, but the cab was full of tension. I had a feeling that they were angryforme, but they didn’t need to be. I had accepted that part of my life, and it wasn’t as if I had never enjoyed sex before. There was nothing to be mad at.
“It’s fine,” I told them. “It’s really not that big of a deal. I don’t know why I even brought it up.”
Callan tilted my head back and kissed me. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I moaned at the taste of myself. He drew my bottom lip between his and bit down gently. “Whoever made you feel like it doesn’t matter that you weren’t 100 percent enjoying yourself should face the worst tortures imaginable,” he said. “Any man who can’t meet his woman’s needs shouldn’t have one.”
I snorted. “Okay,that’sarchaic.” I pushed up so that I was sitting on my own. He was still near, a warm weight at my side, but I didn’t want him looming over me. “I’m my own person,” I said.
“Of course, you are,” Ethan said with a scoff. “That’s not the point Callan was trying to make.”
“Then what was his point?” I hated the snippy tone in my voice, like if we were standing, I would have stomped my foot or something.
“That you’ve been treated poorly in the past,” Callan said, pressing a kiss to my neck, “and I hate it because you deserve so much more than that.”
I wanted to roll my eyes—what he was saying wasn’t any less archaic than before—but the sincerity of his voice got to me. “I don’t want to be unfair to my exes,” I said. “They weren’t mean or abusive or anything.”